Touch
by Firefly-Winter
Summary: Willow McClean just wanted to stay away, she wanted to be done with SHIELD. But it seems what remains of SHIELD has other intentions of the "enhanced" female. She gets dragged back in all but kicking and screaming. -extended summary of sorts inside.- SteveRogersxoc Starts just before Age of Ultron.
1. Summary

**A/n: I had this idea lingering in my head for weeks now, I am down right obsessed! It's going to eventually be a Stevexoc story because I love Captain America. I just really needed to get these story plots out of my head, seriously.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers, or any of the Marvel universe. I own only Willow, her past and the plot points she brings in with her.**

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Summary (of sorts)

Willow McClean had been foolish enough to believe she could remove herself from SHIELD. She believed that if she had remained away at school, only coming when absolutely needed, she could remain 'free'. But of course the twenty-six year old was foolish, one could never leave SHIELD.

Once SHIELD fell and began to splinter into small sub-groups, her phone began to ring. She had tried to ignore Nick Fury at first, denying him whatever he was seeking of her. But then the man sunk low and had someone else reach out to her, someone she could never deny.

Clint Barton had done a lot for Willow over the years having been the one to officially bring her into SHIELD before her eighteenth birthday. He had personally trained her in the ways of fighting. He had even tried to help her with her control, slowly guiding her in the best ways to keep her sanity.

So when Clint calls asking for her to come to his house there was little Willow could say. She was not going to deny the man who had helped her with so much, and she never needed an excuse to see his kids.

Her plan was simple enough; she would get the archer to see her reasons for wanting to stay away. She would tell him about her control, about how good she was doing, and she would convince him they were better off without her.

She had not banked on his argument being so sound, and his words being so convincing. Her plan did not include re-joining what remained of SHIELD, or joining the Avengers for that matter. But Willow was slowly learning that even the best laid plans go awry.


	2. Control

**Note: I am actually kind of proud of this first chapter. I really like Willow, and no she won't be an angry broody girl the whole time. Anyway, thank you all for the favorites, and follows. Thanks for the review it really pushed me to write this chapter and get it out faster.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers, SHIELD or anything else that belongs to the wonderful world of Marvel. I own only Willow, and her story.**

" **I couldn't stand the person inside me."- Control by Halsey.**

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 **Chapter 1: Control**

Clint Barton felt like a child, a petulant child. He never imagined that he would find himself in a staring contest with a twenty-six year old woman, but he did. They sat across from each other at his kitchen table, neither speaking with their eyes fixed on one another. Clint had not planned for it to come to this, he expected her to talk to him, but he should have known better. For as smart as Willow McClean was she was also stubborn. So very Stubborn.

"Willow, you are acting like a child," he scolded, arms crossed as he watched her.

"You're acting like a child," she shot back in a mocking tone.

Clint found himself grinding his jaw. Why must she act like a child when she did not get her way? He narrowed his eyes at her, watching her. Her gloved hands came to settle on the table and he saw the small twitch in her fingers. She wanted to leave, her hands were itching to push her away from the table so she could leave, and yet she didn't.

"I am being serious, Will," he spoke to her like she was his. "Are you going to listen to what I have to say, or am I wasting my time here?"

"At least your wasting your time at home," she wanted to laugh, he saw the slight chuckle she held back rise in her chest.

He suppressed the urge to roll his eyes like a teenager, and instead served to narrow his eyes further.

"I am the first to find your sarcasm humorous, kid, but this is not the time."

Her face dropped, the slight smile on her face fell to a subtle frown. Her honey color eyes settled on the table in front of him, her whole posture changing.

"Just tell me what it is Nick wants now," she grumbled.

Clint wanted to smile to himself, he wanted to grin in victory, but he couldn't. Something in the subtle change of her body language, of her tone, worried him. He was an Agent of SHIELD or was, and he was meant to be objective but never with her. He could never be formal, or too professional, when it came to the young brunette in front of him. Not after taking her from her home, not after helping her grow. He just needed to push off his worry for a few minutes, and then he'd ask her what's wrong.

"We are currently hunting down HYDRA, while looking for an artifact of Alien origin," he felt odd reciting the words Fury had written in the report. "We need your special set of skills to find the object, and subsequently learn more about it."

His words all felt heavy and foreign on his tongue. He hated speaking to her like that, like a superior, but it was what needed to be done. He also hated calling her powers her skillset, but if he had called them a gift or hinted to her being an enhanced she'd reach across the table to hit him.

"Skills? So you need me to go around and touch things so you can learn shit?" She asked him incredulously. "You have scientist, and a damn God, get them do figure it out." Her words were filled with venom, and he could not place the reason why. "I'm sorry; Clint, but I can't help you."

She stood from the table then, a frown still on her face. He was only more confused by her last sentence, and her actions that followed it. She was going to leave, he could tell but he wasn't going to allow her to. Not without answers.

"Willow Grace, sit down," he took on the tone he used with his children, knowing it'd bother her.

Her jaw ticked as she looked down at him, her honey colored eyes seeming to grow darker. She hated being talked to like a child, like she was someone to scold and punish.

"Remind me to kick my brother's ass for teaching you my middle name," she mumbled under her breath as her hands were firmly planted on the table. "I can't help you, Clint; there is no reason for me to stick around here."

"Sit down, kid," he said it again, less like a father this time, "we are going to talk about this."

She let out a long huff of air, her eyes rolling as she sat back down in the wooden chair. It was clear to him that she did not want to speak about it, she was content skirting the subject and leaving him confused. He was not going to let that happen, he was not going to talk to her like an Agent now. He was going to broch the subject like her friend, the one she told most things to, and he'd get his answers.

"Why can't you help me, Will?"

Her bottom lip became worried between her teeth, her gloved hands became fidgety. All signs that she was thinking of what to tell him. He remembered the behavior from when he'd first met her at seventeen; he remembered how nervous she looked before she admitted to her powers.

"I don't have control," gone was the sassy adult and in her wake was the quiet child.

Clint looked at Willow with wide eyes filled with confusion. He had expected a few things, but her lack of control was not one of them. Sure she never had perfect control, she didn't have excellent control, but she was getting there. When he met her she had no control, each touch of her hand would cause someone's life to flash before her eyes or an object's history to flood her mind. Each touch was a step closer to her falling into madness, but things had changed.

"Excuse me?" He didn't really know how to approach the situation any longer. "You don't have control?"

She nodded, her eyes cast away from him. She wouldn't look at him, and for a moment he could akin her to a kicked dog. She was afraid, afraid of what he'd say about her losing control.

"How?" Was all he could figure to ask, he did not want to make her worry about his reaction.

Once more it seemed she was contemplating her answer, her lips becoming pursed as the thoughts flowed through her mind. He only hoped she wouldn't lie.

"I don't know," she spoke quietly, but he could tell she was being honest. She had a giveaway when she lied, a subtle little twitch even she didn't notice. "I woke up one morning with the feeling of acid in my veins, pain burning through me, but it faded. I didn't think anything of it."

"And why didn't you think to say something about this burning pain in your calls to Laura, or myself, or hell even your brother?"

He knew yelling at her wasn't the smartest course of action, but he figured acid like pain was problem.

"Because I didn't think it mattered!" Her hands slammed on the table, her anger returning. "I didn't want to bother your pregnant wife or my always worried big brother over something that went away."

Once more the staring battle commenced between the two. Clint narrowed his blue eyes at her, a silent anger burning beneath the surface, while her honey eyes darkened. Her anger was less silent, it was more harsher breathing and shaking hands. Her temper was a problem, and coupled with a lack of control she was bound to mess up some time.

"How long? How long have you been lacking control, Willow?"

"Three months," was her seething response. "The night after the burning pain I meant to practice, like always do, and when I touched my training object things got a little crazy." Her body slouched as she spoke, her hands slowly sliding off the table. "I wasn't prepared, Clint, I didn't think about it. I did it like I always do, centered breathing and controlled thoughts but it didn't work. Everything hit me like a fucking wave, and it knocked me on my ass."

He nodded, unwilling to speak yet. He knew there was more, he could see it in her eyes and he wanted her to speak unhindered.

"I thought maybe I was just out of practice or doing something wrong," she admitted. "So the next day I tried again, I went up to a friend and touched them without my gloves. I didn't see anything, didn't feel what they had felt, but I heard them in my head. I heard them thinking about a math test, and I freaked out. I've never heard anyone's thoughts before, never."

He could understand why she was frightened by the development. In the almost ten years that Clint had known Willow her powers were always the same. She could heal someone with a simple touch, mending bones and healing wounds. Her touch came with a price as well, each time she touched someone or something their complete history and past would flood her. She could hear what they heard, see what they saw and feel what they felt. She could tell you how an object was made, who made it and how many people have touched it. It had been driving the girl made for ten years by the time they met. He tried to help her, and now it seemed all that was undone.

"What else?" He probed, knowing she was not done.

She bit her lip before continuing, "I'm healing." At first he just raised an eyebrow at her that was nothing new, she could always heal others. "And I don't mean other people, I mean myself. I was playing a game with some friends, one minute I had a broken ankle the next nothing. I healed myself Clint, but it comes and goes." Her hands came up to run through her wavy brown hair, her eyes shutting for a moment. "Something is happening, and I can't control it. So, again, I am sorry Clint but I can't help you."

He stayed silent for a moment, his mind running through everything she said. It took him only that moment to decide what needed to be done, and he would make sure it happened. Whether Willow wanted to agree or not didn't matter.

"You're coming back with me to New York," he spoke plainly.

"Did you not fucking hear me?" Once more her anger flared, as if on cue. "I don't have control, Clint. If I touch your objects, I don't know what is going to happen. I may touch it and get one memory at a time like we want or I could learn everything. You want me, an unstable person at the moment, to touch an alien artifact?" Once more she was standing, her hands on her hips. "Are you fucking crazy? Do you want me to go insane? Is that it?"

"No."

She began to pace, her body shaking. Clint didn't stop her, or even try to console her. He knew when she got like this it was pointless, it would only end up with her yelling some more. He let her walk out her emotions, thankful his family wasn't home at the moment though they may have calmed her.

"I can't," she spoke without looking at him, "I won't. I won't let myself go with you to help SHIELD when I can't even handle myself."

"You're not going to help SHIELD, Will, you're helping me."

She scoffed but still didn't turn to him. "It's the same thing, Clint. The Avengers, SHIELD, _HYDRA,_ it's all the same. SHIELD may be gone officially but we both know it's not, and Fury may not be calling the shots but he's calling them enough if he got you to call me."

He knew she wasn't wrong, but she also wasn't right. SHIELD was done, gone underground after the files hit the public, but Nick had some sway. And Fury was right when he told Clint that they needed Willow's gift, and the archer had agreed on a condition. A condition he had yet to share with Willow, one he wouldn't share until she agreed.

"It's not the same, Will; the people I work with are different. We are separate from S.H.I.E.L.D, just please." He was not going to beg but he was going to get her to agree and come to New York, even if he had to drag her there.

"No."

Clint prided himself on his patience with her, and with his children, and with many other things really but she was testing him. He was sick of fighting with her, and after learning about the lack of control he was getting worried. Three months with strange pains, and manifesting powers was something that concerned him.

"I can help you," he offered causing her to turn to him with a raised brow. "Well, I can't, you know I suck at science stuff but I have a friend who can help." He paused for a moment waiting for her to question him, but when she didn't he continued. "Bruce Banner, he's doctor, I think maybe he can help. It's the best shot at figuring this out Will."

She seemed to be thinking about his offer, her pacing having stopped. He wondered for a moment what went through her mind, what her thought process was, but he knew better than to wonder that. He'd never want to know what went on in other people's minds; he didn't envy someone who knows such things. He didn't envy her for knowing almost everything about someone's past, especially his own.

"And in return for this man's help?" She didn't have to ask, they both knew that. He would want her help in finding the scepter.

"We'll figure that out when we get there, Will, alright."

Willow paused for a moment before nodding. It was a silent agreement between them before she walked away, going up the stairs to the guest room that had long since been hers. He didn't follow her; he had planning he had to do. He had to call Stark to inform the billionaire that they would be having company, and he had to contact Banner about helping Willow. He didn't know anyone else in the world that could help her, and he feared if Banner couldn't then Willow would finally lose it all.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thank you guys for the follows, favs and the review. I am really getting into writing this story, and I can't wait for Willow and Steve to meet. Ugh. Anyway, onward.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers, or anyone associated with the Marvel universe. I own only Willow, her family and her past.**

 **Chapter 2: Crazy**

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" _ **You can't wake up, this is not a dream, you are not a human being."-Gasoline by Halsey**_

 _She could smell the blood, feel the sting of the blades as they cut the victims skin. She could hear their screams, their pleas for mercy before it all fell silent. Death, death had come for them._

 _She could feel their hands touch; she could feel their lips meet in a passionate kiss. It was her first time that much she could tell. She could feel the girl's fear as the man laid her in bed, she could feel her pain as the innocence was lost. She could feel the love that washed away her fears, and she could feel her pleasure as he satisfied his love._

 _She could taste the blood in her own mouth; feel the throbbing in her knuckles and sting on her lip. His anger was deafening, his thirst for vengeance evident in everything he did. She could see him move like a panther attacking its prey, watched as he threw his fist into the other man's face._

"Willow," a soft voice cut through her dreams, her nightmares, dragging her back into the land of the living. "Come on, Willow, it's time for dinner."

Honey colored eyes opened slowly, adjusting from her visions and dreams back to the waking world. Her body shifted to the left to see Laura standing beside the bed, her pregnant belly instantly drawing the younger girl's eyes. A small smile tugged at her lips before it died with the memories of her dream, of the images she was forced to relive.

"You've never had nightmares before, Willow," Laura spoke again before Willow could even wake up. "When did they start?"  
Willow always admired Laura, and her straight to the point nature about things. It reminded her of her own mother, the woman who had taught her how to be who she was.

"Three months ago," she answered in a sleep laced voice. "It's nothing to worry about Laura."

She did not want Laura to worry about her; she never wanted anyone to worry about her. Shane, her older brother, had been worry about her for years. The day she managed to heal his broken wrist was the day he swore to keep her safe, no matter the cost. She'd never let him find out the price, never. Laura and Clint worried, she knew that. They had all but adopted her when she went to work for SHIELD, but she would not allow them to worry.

"That's not what my husband says," came Laura's gentle response, a smile playing on her lips.

Willow wanted to roll her eyes in frustration, of course Clint would tell Laura. Was it not enough that he was dragging her to New York to meet the damned Hulk? Like some doctor who turns himself into a green monster could help her.

"Shouldn't we be getting down to eat dinner," she skirted the subject with ease, she was good at that.

Laura shook her head, "they can start without us." The pregnant woman took a seat beside the bed looking into Willow's eyes. "Tell me what's going on, Willow, I want to hear it from you."

The girl in question began to sit up her, her gloved hands digging into the mattress as she leaned against the headboard. She didn't want to go through the story again, or even begin to explain to Laura about how she had no clue why it was happening. To her that was the worst part, not knowing what was happening to her. Was it natural, or did something happen that was unaware of? Why now had her powers decided to change, contort into something new and out of control?

"Laura," Willow started but she didn't finish.

"Don't start, Willow, I know that tone. Just tell me what's going on, it's alright."

The older woman reached her hand out, placing it upon Willow's own gloved one. Willow could feel the warmth of her hand through the material, and if she tried hard enough she could almost feel the gentle feel of the woman's skin on her own. She sighed in resignation before looking ahead of her at the wall, not even looking at Laura while she spoke.

"I just lost control, is all," she said it like it was a discussion of the weather. "I don't know why, and I don't know how to get it back. I am manifesting new powers, and I am almost sure I'm going crazy."

There were other things she wanted to say, to scream, but she didn't. Willow settled for the words that had all but slipped from her lips. She wanted to explain her nightmares, explain how each time she closed her eyes it all came back. She wanted to tell Laura how every moment she had seen of someone's life was threatening to swallow her whole.

"We will help you," she wanted to scoff at Laura's words. No one could help her. "You just have to want it."

 _You can't get better if you don't want it._

Those words were not her own, she could remember them in someone else's memory. An addict's memory, a man she did not even know. He didn't want help; his family didn't understand it and constantly pushed him toward it. It never worked.

"I want it," she promised. But did she want to get better? How long could she be better before it all broke again? "I just don't know how to get better," she mumbled.

"Together," Laura held out her hand for Willow, and it took the younger girl only a moment to take it.

Together the two women left the spare room, Willow feeling slightly better as they made their way down the stairs. Her mind was heavy, her body stiff, but she knew everything would be alright. She knew Clint would not hurt her, and he would not drag her to New York unless he actually thought it'd help her. She just had to want it, just needed to accept it.

When they entered the kitchen Clint was already sitting with the two kids, food piled on their plates. Once Lila spotted Willow her eyes lit up causing willow to smile.

"Aunty Low!" The young girl called to her from the table, her hand waving with excitement.

"Hey, Lila," Willow smiled down at the girl as she took a seat beside her. "How is school going?"

Lila seemed to forget about her food as she launched into her story about school, and how she was learning so much. Willow smiled at the little girl, her heart swelling as the child spoke. She loved Clint's kids, they had become like little siblings to her. She'd do anything for them just as her brother would do anything for her.

When Lila finally stopped speaking they ate, the only sound coming from the clink of silverware. Willow was almost content with the silence, thankful she was no longer arguing with Clint. She hated to fight with the older man, he just knew how to push her buttons. She knew he was doing such when they were talking, that things he had said were meant only to stir something in her. And she hated that it worked, he got her so riled up she agreed to whatever he said. He was good, she'd give him that.

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It was later that night that Willow found herself outside, the railing of the porch gripped tightly in her hands. She was trying to keep herself from sleeping, afraid to slip into another nightmare. She had been told once by her roommate that she sometimes screamed in her sleep and the alst thing Willow wanted was for the kids to hear that. They should not have to deal with her issues.

"Willow," Clint's voice cut through the silence of the night, his heavy steps coming toward her. "What are you doing up? We're leaving early tomorrow."

"Today," she corrected him, "it's past midnight, so it'd be today."

He chuckled at her sarcastic comment, coming to stand beside her. She didn't look over at the archer, her brown eyes fixed on the night sky. She thought of her brother, and she wondered if he was looking at the sky as well. She missed him.

"You still didn't answer me," Clint reminded her.

She shrugged her shoulders, loosening her grip on the railing. "Couldn't sleep, I suppose."

She didn't like lying to Clint, but she found herself doing it more often than not. She found it better that way.

"Right," he scoffed, "has nothing to do with the nightmares you've been having."

Willow let out a small chuckle; she should have known Laura would tell her husband. She never understood how she always remained surprised about them telling each other everything. Maybe it was Willow's own lack of serious relationships that kept her from understanding. She'd always kept secrets from her partners, important ones but even so they were secrets none the less. It seemed that the Barton's did not share her philosophy on secret keeping.

"I don't want the kids to hear me if I end up screaming," she spoke clearly, "roommate said it happens sometimes."

He nodded, his eyes moving to look over at her.

"I have them too, Will," he admitted. "Maybe not the same kinds of nightmares, but you've seen my past. You know what I've done, what I've seen; it's not something that makes it easy to sleep at night."

Willow nodded, remembering the time she was training with him after New York and how she saw a memory of his time with Loki. She could remember the screaming in his head, the inner battle as the scepter took over his mind.

"How do you get through it?"

"With Laura, my kids and my friends," he reached over and placed a hand on her shoulder. "I'll help you, kid, and you'll be back to yourself in no time." He smiled over at her, "though if we could improve your attitude I'll look into that, you stubborn woman."

She slapped his hand away with a smirk, and a small laugh.

"Shut it, old man."

Silence fell between the two friends after that. Willow made no move to go inside and it seemed Clint was content standing there as well. The moon shone down on the friends, and for a moment Willow thought it'd be okay. She thought maybe she'd get through it, if she just had her friend for help. She didn't agree with helping SHIELD, the idea still pissed her off, but having Clint there was better. He wanted to help her, and she could make a sacrifice for that.


End file.
